


Each Step Is Colder

by DotColorful



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DotColorful/pseuds/DotColorful
Summary: Post-ESB AU. During a mission, Luke gets captured by the Imperials and is brought before Vader. The Dark Lord, cold and emotionless at first, soon changes as his son gets injured during an escape attempt.One Shot.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 36
Kudos: 441





	Each Step Is Colder

Laughs, taunts, curses.

Rough hands on his arms.

Cold metal snapping around his wrists.

And then there was no Force.

"Move, scum."

He resisted, fought them, refused to go down without a fight. But without the Force as his aid, he had no chance against the group of Imperials that have caught him. He was roughly pushed towards a shuttle awaiting them, a blaster trained at his back. Again, he tried to fight them off, free himself of the hands that held his arms.

He failed.

They pushed him inside the shuttle, forced him into a chair. He closed his eyes, trying to feel the Force, but due to the force-suppressant nature of his handcuffs, it just wasn't there.

Luke had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in his life.

"Contact Lord Vader," he suddenly heard. "Tell him we have Skywalker."

Luke's heart froze and he renewed his struggles, desperate to escape. He couldn't face Vader - _it was too soon_ \- couldn't look at his mask. He _needed_ to get away, dreading the confrontation that was, undoubtedly, to come. He just couldn't! How could he face his fa-... _Vader,_ if it was so soon and the memory of Bespin was still fresh in his mind? He didn't have the Force, he couldn't fight...

The ship's ramp closed, all his hopes crashing as the shuttle rose from the planet's surface.

***

  
"Walk."

Luke was being dragged through the corridors, manhandled by two stormtroopers, an officer following them behind. He could feel the Imperial's pride, the superiority that came with the fact that he was about to deliver Luke Skywalker, the destroyer of the Death Star, to the Dark Lord of the Sith.

And then they entered a room, one that Luke assumed must belong to his father's - _not true, please, not true -_ quarters; he was roughly pushed to the front, the guards standing behind him. 

In the center of the room was a large sphere, in the middle of which sat the Dark Lord, his back turned to his son.

"Luke Skywalker, sir."

Luke winced at the sound of his name. It brought the realization of the gravity of the situation he'd found himself in and he briefly wondered if his father was going to fight him, as he did on Bespin, and serve his hand once more...

"Good work, officer," Vader said and Luke's heart fell, the sound of his father's voice sending shivers through his body. He couldn't do that, it was too soon, _please don't make me face him-_

A cling resounded in the room and with surprise, Luke realized his father had opened his cuffs.

The Force rushed back to him, sending pain through his skull. He moved to clutch his head with his now free hands, but the two stormtroopers tightened their grasp around his arms, preventing the move. So he just stood there, tightly held by the guards, trying to assume the most dignified posture possible.

And then Vader turned around.

It was a fast move, but for Luke, it lasted an eternity; he could see the shine on his father's mask, his reflection in its lenses. It was the image that had haunted him in his nightmares ever since Bespin, the image that could make air escape his lungs in an instant... He took a deep breath, looking Vader in the eye, never leaving his gaze. He was aware of how he must have looked like - his face was pale and tired, he had dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep, dark fringes of blond, dirty hair falling on his forehead.

It was time.

He needed to say something.

"Father."

In an instant, the guards holding him fell to the ground, dead. Luke staggered backward and fell against the wall, not supported by the troopers anymore.

And then the baritone voice resounded in the room.

"You will not inform others of our relationship unless I allow you to do so."

Luke froze. He'd said the word on purpose, to unsettle Vader, knowing it was the only chance of getting an advantage he would get in the upcoming future. But... his foolishness had caused the death of the guards; two innocent people had died because he's uttered the truth that Vader didn't want anybody to know...

"No..." he whispered, regarding the bodies of the stormtroopers now lying lifelessly on the floor. He pressed his back harder against the wall as he felt panic start to overwhelm his body. _It's happening too fast, I'm not ready..._

Vader's gloved hand caught his arm and strongly pulled him towards his menacing figure.

"You are foolish to care about their lives, Luke."

Luke lifted his eyes, staring right into the lenses of Vader's mask. Their faces were only inches apart and it made Luke's muscles tense from the fear that he so desperately tried to hold in check. 

The person that was holding his arm was _his father_ , Luke realized. _Father_. The man from his childhood dreams, the most important man in his life... He's always wished to have a father that would _hold_ him...

But Vader's hold on his arm was rough and painful, so devoid of any feelings of love or care.

"You didn't have to kill them," Luke whispered.

"Soon you will learn to dispose of such thoughts," Vader said coldly, loosening the hand around his arm, but still not letting it go. For a moment, Luke felt like a possession, tightly held by his father's vice grip. Just a possession - nothing more. A son. _His_ son.

"I won't turn to the dark side, father, and you know it," Luke replied, suddenly enraged at this thought. He was more than just a tool; more than what Vader wanted him to be. 

The hold on his arm loosened. "We will see about that," Vader replied menacingly and Luke took a step back, finally free of Vader's grasp, but never broke the contact with his father's eyes.

"We won't," he said stubbornly. "I'll die first."

He didn't want to die. No, this was not what he wanted, but what choice did he have? He couldn't give up what he was fighting for, couldn't betray his friends, his masters.

Vader turned his head sharply, regarding him for a long moment. If Luke hadn't known better, he would have thought that his words had unsettled the Dark Lord. 

"I do not wish to see you dead, my son."

That statement, combined with the word _son,_ was enough for Luke to lose the calm and control he thought he had. He inhaled sharply, unwilling to show the effect Vader's words had on him, but he knew his father probably saw it anyway.

"However-" Vader continued - "I will not hesitate to kill you, should you give me no choice."

Luke paled, the last of his childhood dreams crashing with that statement.

"You don't mean that, father," he whispered, but even he didn't believe it. His father had hurt him before, had cut his hand off with no remorse. Why would it be different now?

" _I mean it_ ," Vader said, confirming his painful thoughts.

Luke turned around sharply, facing the wall. He didn't care that this position was making him vulnerable - an easy target that Vader could strike any moment. All he wanted was to hide his face from his father's eyes, unable to repress the tears that were threatening to spill loose.

All he ever wanted was a _father_. Why couldn't he have that? What had he done wrong, why had his father never loved him?

"We all make choices, father," he said in a watery voice, trying to hide his unsettlement. "I don't believe you're incapable of making the right ones."

Vader didn't respond. Instead, he heard his heavy steps approach his lean form, and then Vader reached for something hidden under his tunic, something...

_His lightsaber._

The guards had forgotten to take away his lightsaber.

In an instant, his hand caught the hilt, trying to prevent Vader form taking away his only hope for an escape.

"Don't!" he shouted, using all his strength to pull the lightsaber from his father's hands.

It all happened quickly.

Vader's hand grasped his wrist.

The lightsaber was pulled from his palm.

Luke screamed.

It wasn't a scream of pain or agony. He was never physically injured. But Vader's touch on his wrist, _his right wrist,_ was enough to make panic race through his body.

He staggered back, his body hitting the wall, his hands gripping it for support.

"Don't...-" he warned as he saw Vader marching towards him, his arm outstretched. "Don't come any closer!"

But Vader didn't listen, still advancing on him, until he was standing right in front of Luke, his hand in front of his son's face.

" _Your hand."_

"No..." Luke shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

" _Give me your hand._ "

Again, he shook his head.

"I can't..."

Why didn't his father understand? Why didn't he know that Luke _couldn't do it,_ couldn't bear his father holding him _there?_

 _"I warn you, Luke,"_ his father seethed, anger swelling around him. " _Give. Me. Your. Hand."_

"NO!" Luke sobbed as his father grasped his right wrist, forcefully pulling it upright and in front of his face, forcing his son to look at where metal met flesh. Vader squeezed, almost painfully, making Luke think of... of...

"This is a reminder, son-" he said slowly, menacingly. "- of what happens to those who resist the dark side."

But Luke was past listening, panic racing through him. All he wanted was for his father to let him go, to free him of the painful memories of his childhood dreams crashing with four simple words...

"Please..." he whispered.

"A Jedi does not succumb to his emotions so easily, my son," he said, still grasping his wrist. "You, Luke, are no Jedi."

"I... I will be," he replied weakly. He placed his hand where his father's was, trying to pull it away from his wrists.

"But you won't, Luke," his father said, a tone of amusement in his voice. "You'll die first."

And with that, he turned around, letting go of Luke's hand and reaching for his commlink.

"Admiral, transport Skywalker to the prisoner bay."

Two guards stepped into the room a moment later, an admiral that Luke recognized as Piett following them. Luke didn't protest as they caught him by his arms and put binders on his wrists, once again cutting him from the Force. All that mattered was getting away from Vader.

They walked through the hallways in silence. Luke didn't notice any of the looks he received from the Executor's crew. His mind was racing about what his father had done, about the way he'd brutally snatched his hand, making him live through his painful memories again. The man didn't care about him, Luke knew that, and yet it was so hard to just let go...

He knew he couldn't face his father again, knew it would be too hard for him to speak with Vader once more and stay calm. He needed to escape, but Vader had taken away his lightsaber, his hands were bound, and without the Force, he didn't have many options left.

An officer approached them, standing right in front of Admiral Piett.

"You are needed on the bridge, sir," he said.

"I am transferring a prisoner now," Piett seethed. "It is _Lord Vader's_ command."

The officer paled visibly at the mention of the Dark Lord's name.

"I-I understand sir... but this... is urgent," he stammered. "We need your assistance."

Luke looked around. Where they were standing was not far from the hangar bay. He could even see a ship standing there, ready to fly. He could escape using it, and then he wouldn't have to worry about facing his father again. Flying a ship with bound hands wouldn't be so hard either, would it? If he could only reach the ship...

This was the only chance he was going to get. His guards' attention was on the officer - they were distracted. He could leave, unnoticed, and get to the ship...

He quickly looked around, making sure his path wasn't blocked, took a deep breath and then began racing towards the hangar bay. His feet were almost flying, so fast was the pace of his run. He was barely aware of the shouts around him as his guards realized what had happened. The only thing that mattered was the ship that he was running towards.

"Block the way! The prisoner's escaping!"

 _Faster, Luke,_ he thought as he ran towards the hangar bay, the sound of troopers running behind him becoming louder and louder.

"Open fire!" someone shouted and Luke quickly looked behind him, noticing the guards drawing up their blasters. If he had his lightsaber or the Force, he could easily defend himself, but here... Here he could only run and hope the troopers wouldn't hit him.

A sound of the first shot pierced his mind, soon followed by others. The troopers missed - he was running faster than he ever had, avoiding all the shots.

"DON'T SHOOT!" he suddenly heard. It was a deep voice, an angry one, but it didn't matter, for he had to run...

"STOP!" The voice was there again, but no one listened, the shots still resounding around him. He was so close to the ship, it wasn't long before he would-...

Pain.

Excruciating, agonizing pain.

...his chest?

...his chest was burning?

Dazed, he placed a hand to it. It came away with dark blood.

They shot him.

They shot him in the chest.

He looked around, not feeling any pain yet, the movement of the troopers appearing as if in slow motion. There was a shout somewhere, someone yelling something in a deep, baritone voice, but he was past listening, suddenly realizing his body was so limp it was unable to stay upright.

And then he fell, landing on his belly, feeling pain erupt in his chest. He curled on the cold floor, colors flashing before his eyes, and he gasped, begging for the agony to stop. He could feel the compression in his torso, blood soaking up his jacket, his throat becoming constricted as he tried to draw in a breath...

"MEDIC!"

Shouts, steps, all people coming towards his curled form and he was so very alone...

Hands.

There were hands on his shoulders, strong arms turning him onto his back.

Hands. _Gloved hands._

He gasped, groaned, the sound of a respirator drilling through his skull. It was Vader _, his father, the navigator on a space freighter but it's not true, not true..._

He panicked, his father's touch sending waves of fear through his body, the memory of Vader touching his wrist mere moments ago still fresh in his mind.

"Luke!"

He hated the urgency in his father's voice, the way his hands shook as he grasped his torn-down jacket. His father... cared about him?

He felt leather under his cheek, sticking to his blood-crusted skin. Another hand hovered above his body frantically, as if Vader wasn't sure where exactly he should place it. Eventually, it rested on the entry wound in his chest, pressing on it with enough force to make him whimper.

"No! No... Hush... Luke..."

His eyes were threatening to shut down and he forced them to stay open, trying to focus on his father's mask. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many words he knew should be spoken. His father... his father was worried about him. His father didn't want him to die.

He opened his mouth, just slightly, knowing his face was twisted in a grimace of effort and strain, and he tried to form words.

"F...fath-..." he tried, but what left his throat was a painful hoarse sound. He choked on blood, feeling the thick liquid trickle down his cheeks.

Immediately, the hand in his hair tightened painfully, and Luke could feel the panic in his father's touch.

"Don't speak!" Vader commanded and Luke flinched involuntarily, startled by the menacing voice. His father's fingers froze. 

"Don't..." he said, softer this time. "Preserve your energy. There will be help here soon."

Luke tried to lift his bound hands, the metal cuffs suddenly freezing on his skin, but he was too weak to even do that. The blurred outline of his father's mask turned around.

"Medic! Now!"

Luke didn't hear anything else. He felt as if blood was blocking his ears, eyes, and mouth, trickling down with a sickening smell. He felt it mix with his tears of pain and he sobbed quietly. The mask turned back towards him, now rubbing comforting circles on his uninjured arm with its thumb.

"Cold..." Luke whispered. "...cold...n-no...hot..."

He knew he was beginning to sound delusional, and Vader knew it too. It wasn't long before... before he would...-

"No. You will not die." Vader said suddenly as if sensing his thoughts. "Not like this."

Luke tried to laugh, but it only resulted in more blood spilling from his mouth. _Not like this?_ Of course. He knew it was all to perfect, too beautiful to have the privilege to _die in his father's arms,_ to be comforted by the man he'd always wished to meet in his last moments. _Not like this._ His father wouldn't mind him dying in a battle then? Wouldn't object to striking him down, choking him to dea-

"Stop it!" the commanding voice was back again, but Luke didn't flinch this time. "I would never-... I forbid you to think of such things," he added. Was his father about to say he would never hurt Luke? Was he...-

A low moan escaped Luke's lips as the pain in his chest became too much to bear. At the same moment, he heard people approaching them, and then Vader stood up, allowing two medics to attempt to lift him on a stretcher.

Pain erupted in his chest and a hoarse scream emerged from his throat.

"No!" he yelled pleadingly, his voice strengthened by his pain. "H-hurts..!"

The medics tried to hold him down, but he was struggling now, despite the pain that the movement brought him. He couldn't let them lift him, it was too much...

"Stop it, Luke," his father said commandingly, but there was urgency in his voice.

But Luke was beyond hearing, struggling to avoid the medics' hands, begging them to leave him. He fought every hand that touched his body, resisted every hold on his arms. His world was filled with daze and panic, a mix of colors and utter darkness.

Darkness...

He imagined the mask of his father, the shadow that was always with him. He tried to recall Vader's hand on his cheek, remember how it felt. The memory brought him relief and eased his pain, the constant throb in his chest.

"...fa...the...r..." he whispered weakly, unable to see anymore, the world becoming a blurry outline that he watched through blank, glassy eyes.

And then Vader's hands were under his shoulders and knees, so soothing, so strong.

"I'm here, son," his father whispered. "You don't have to worry anymore."

"I am going to lift you now."

And he did, but Luke did not feel pain anymore. His father... His father was here. He would protect him. He was safe now.

He was barely aware of being laid on a stretcher, of various needles and liquids being pumped into his body, of his father's presence never leaving his mind. He blinked slowly, heavily, barely noticing Vader's mask staring right at him.

And then, with a final blink, everything went dark.

***

  
Consciousness came to him gradually.

Luke was aware of lying somewhere, somewhere rough, something sticky covering his body.

Dried blood.

He opened his eyes and tried to lift his head, but it was too heavy, too hard. His body felt awful, drenched in sweat, his head hurt, his throat stung. It was like awakening from a deep illness, only this time it was much worse, with a constant ache in his chest and dried tears on his cheeks. 

_A shot catching him squarely in the chest, pain erupting in his body..._

He groaned as he tried to move, suddenly feeling the need to get up, but again, he couldn't even lift his head. He was in a medical bay, but it was dark, and it made him feel more anxious and uneasy than he ever thought he could feel.

_Vader catching his arm, turning him onto his back..._

Had Vader brought him here? The medics? Luke felt new beads of sweat appear on his forehead as he tried to remember what had happened before he'd gotten to the medbay.

_Vader soothing him, Vader telling him everything will be alright..._

Why...why did Vader help him? Before he was shot, Vader had made it very clear that he wouldn't...

...hesitate to kill him.

And yet, as he was injured, his father ran to his side and saved him.

Why?

His mind raced, trying to decide what to do.

He needed answers. He needed to see Vader.

He tensed, trying to lift his torso from the bed. His hands were no longer bound, he realized, feeling the Force weakly flowing through him. Still, it took him a lot of strain and effort to finally sit on the medical cot, cautiously swinging his legs over the edge. He took a deep breath, bracing his body and preparing himself to stand up. He put his feet on the floor, pushing himself up with his arms. A smile grew on his face - _I did it! -_ and he moved his leg to take a step forward.

He groaned as his face collided with the floor, his legs too weak to support his body.

He lay there, dazed, trying to catch his breath, once again feeling the pain in his chest and the sound of drilling in his skull.

 _Great,_ he thought, _there's no way I'm standing up now..._

He plastered his cheek to the cold floor, trying to calm his erratic breathing. He didn't even bother trying to stand up - he knew that he would fall the second he put weight on his legs. Instead, he just closed his eyes, waiting for someone to come and help him get back on his bed.

He realized that he'd fallen asleep only when he felt someone catching him and pulling him upright, placing him gently on the cot. He squinted under the medbay's lights, suddenly jostled awake, only to see his father's mask blocking the view. He raised his hand, trying to grab onto Vader's arm, but his fingers uncurled, still too weak to even do that.

"Easy, son," his father said, taking his hand and putting it under the sheets that he replaced over his weak body. He then put his hand on Luke's forehead, a cool touch to his burning skin.

"It was unwise for you to move," Vader said and Luke frowned, confused. His father had been threatening to kill him mere... _hours? days?..._ ago, and now he was caring about him?

"I needed to talk to you," Luke replied, hating the sound of his hoarse voice. He felt pain in his chest as he talked, unwillingly recalling the agony of being shot in the hangar bay.

"You shouldn't have tried to escape," Vader continued, disregarding Luke's words. "You knew it would put you in danger, and you did it anyway."

" _Bests having to face you again..._ " Luke muttered bitterly, instantly regretting the words the moment they left his mouth. Vader, however, didn't react, still touching his forehead.

"Facing me would not be harmful to you in any way," his father said after a while, and Luke sensed an undertone of anger in his voice. " _Your escape, however, did._ "

"And you expect me to believe that?!" Luke exclaimed. "You... you forced me to relieve our fi-... _it_ again, father! You did it although I pleaded for you to stop!"

"That was a reminder-"

"No! You have no idea how it feels! To have all your... dreams, to have all-... I... crushed... you don't..."

Luke didn't know what to say anymore. His mind was confused, trying to connect the monstrous beast he'd known from Bespin to this _caring_ figure that had saved him now... Why didn't his father understand...?

"Luke..." he heard suddenly. He felt the gloved hand slide from his forehead to his cheekbone in a caressing gesture, before finally resting on his chin. "It was never my intention to... _harm_ you."

Silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of Vader's respirator. After a few moments, the mask turned around.

"You could have died."

Luke's heart skipped a beat.

It was all he needed to hear. It was Vader - his father - admitting that he was concerned for him, that he cared... His father was sorry. Luke gently probed his mind; what he found was deep sadness and remorse. He felt Vader's relief, too - relief that his son was safe, that everything was going to be alright. Luke smiled, looking at his father with a mixture of gratitude and love. 

Vader, for his part, must have been uncomfortable, to say the least, for he quickly stood up, trying to hide his previous moment of weakness.

"I will return shortly, my son," he said, the unemotional tone back in his voice. "I advise you to rest, until then."

"I will," assured Luke. He reached out with his hand, touching Vader's arm for the last time.

And cried.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes.


End file.
